Shy Girl
by FireInTheirEyes
Summary: Can Sara learn to battle with her inner most demons before it is too late? CS
1. Chapter 1

**First of all I should warn those who are offended this will be femmslash... so if that bothers you for some bizarre reason don't continue to read.**

When we decided to come together for this story there was a lot of choices we had to make. One of them was how we were going to write this so we have decided that **Maggsie**would be writing from Catherine's POV and (I) **Cathandsaraforever55**would be writing from Sara's POV.

**Disclaimer -**Characters belong to CBS. If either of us owned them Jorja fox would be back on the show and Sara would definitely not be in a relationship with Grissom.

**Rated M**- for many reasons that will become more obvious as you read the story

**A/N about title-**Maggsie was kind enough to agree to naming the story Shy Girl. Shy Girl is actually the title of my favorite book by Elizabeth Stark. So I felt I should credit the author and book.

Enough of my rambling and the necessities! _We hope you enjoy the first chapter!_

**

* * *

Sara's POV**

I believed I had escaped; escaped the blackness that plagues my soul. How I could have been so foolish to allow myself hope I do not know. The darkness has never released its grasp on me. It has permitted me to wander at an arm's length away where it could still grab me. Abuse me in its hunger filled state; haunted with the ghosts of my past that strike me when I am down, that cling to me, hold me back, and remind me. Remind me of who I really am; No one. There is only one way to escape the clutches of this blackness.

One option that I am willing to use.

Crossing my apartment I turn on the stereo. All energy I had is gone and I sink to the floor next to the bookshelf. Sitting I stare into my apartment. No lights on. No one else here. Only me and my demons.

A harsh, bitter chuckle escapes my lips. In the end it all comes down to the one thing I can never lose; my past.

Pictures are becoming clearer in my mind. Words are sharper more direct with more of a sting. I am not worth the caring words. People mumble them my way every so often half heartedly. Quick to move on and ignore the quiet girl who's life is her work. Those I don't even deserve.

When the pain started I have no clue, but it has morphed into more. My whole body aches with a lethal concoction of emotions. Curling into myself I let my tears fall.

The tears burn trails down my pale skin. My heart aches even more. I'm empty but not empty. An empty that comes from being filled with so many feelings at once that my body is overwhelmed; leaving me in a state of aching emptiness.

A strange numbness that does not dull the physical pain yet increases it.

I can hear their words clearly. Worthless. Lazy. Invisible. Stupid. Ungrateful. The terms ring clearly in my mind. Reminding me of where I came from; that I will never be able to change enough to keep them away. My body gives an extra throb of embarrassment. My tears fall harder, shaking my whole body. I remain where I am; powerless. Stuck in the hands of my demons. I must come face to face with them tonight. I can't avoid their hold on me any longer.

Clearly I can see her face. An apparition in the room with me. The insanity it held. The helplessness and exhaustion clearly written in her features. I remember her screams. So loud and so happy I knew she had gone over the edge.

I remember every scar, every place where she laid her hands on me and every injury I sustained from her. Each spot briefly burns in recognition of her; my mother.

The rank of cheep alcohol mixed with stale cigarettes and BO invades my senses and bile begins to rise in my throat. That sent all too familiar, still too fresh in my mind. He was supposed to love me, and in the beginning I think he did. I was his only child he had to love me in the beginning right? I can feel his hands roaming me. Touching me in places a father should never touch his daughter. Forcefully penetrating me in a place that would leave scars far worse than the physical ones he left on me. They both left their marks on me. Easily they created a fear that will never heal. A pain that no hospital can cure.

From this though I learned how physical pain could take away the feelings inside and all by the age of nine.

Gleaming knife. The light at the end of the dark tunnel you would have thought. Warm blood drenching me, but it wasn't my blood. No it was all over the walls. It couldn't be. The knife sinking into his body with each stab. I can hear my weak pleas. Begging her to stop. I was so confused. I was frozen in place as I watched my mother kill my father.

Foster home to foster home. The problem child was unwanted. The beatings continued but I was used to it. I knew how to handle the physical pain. There were more men who were supposed to protect me, and love me, who took me into their homes. I can feel their hands on me too. I can feel their rough lips on mine. I can hear their deep, harsh voices telling me to shut up; asking me if I liked it.

Even into college there were men that took advantage of my body. Not only men but a few women. People don't think about that. But it happens between two women too. Rape. It does. I know.

I had sex with the people I loved. I didn't want to but it's what two people do in a relationship. I was overwhelmed with guilt. Whenever they kissed me I would feel someone else's lips. When they touched me I felt foreign hands wandering my skin. When they were in me I felt the unwanted presence of another. Not my lover's. The manifestations of all those who had tried to destroy what was left of me; the ones that raped me.

I came to Vegas hoping for a new start. When Gil called me it was the perfect opportunity for me to run. My past however caught up. In every case I felt sympathy. I saw a piece of myself in the victims. I saw parts of my life in their stories.

For the first time though I had a family.

A very weird family, but a family, and I fit in for the first time in my life. Well almost. There was the alcohol to numb the pain. If I didn't drink too much I would be fine; I wouldn't become addicted. I'm not an addict. I don't have a problem.

As the cases became tougher the more I searched for a distraction. I never flinched away from the thought of self harm. So I burned myself, and I cut myself. Giving myself a new form of numbness; a temporary relief. My body already looked like a battle field. Covered from head to toe in scars. Why not add a few more? Nobody would notice.

I can't stand the pity, and the concern I see in people's eyes and I never had been able to. I don't want to be babied. I don't want people walking on eggshells around me when it comes to certain topics.

I've been trying my hardest not to become my parents when in reality I am turning into them more and more by the day. I have increased my drinking and there is also my temper.

My temper becomes harder to control every day. I can feel the molten fire flowing through my veins; pushing me further and further until I snap. I am disgusted with my lack of self control. My father had a temper. It got worse when he drank. I want to learn to be patient. I don't want to let people get to me. Unfortunately I do.

It happens when they constantly ask me about the rumors circling the lab. Apparently I am in a relationship with Grissom. I hadn't realized I was and I cannot bring myself to be in a relationship with a man. In college I stopped dating men altogether. They were too rough, and not sensitive enough.

Gil Grissom is my mentor. I look up to him as a father. He is one of the only men I can let my guard down with. He is also a friend; the first real friend I had.

Nick, Warrick, and Greg float into my mind. They would do anything for me. They see themselves as overprotective brothers. The thought of them brings a small smile to my face, but the emotion is soon extinguished. The darkness doesn't allow happiness. Or love. Or any good feeling. It takes my darkest thoughts and the horrors of my past and makes them into my reality. Again.

Fighting my restrains that keep me locked in my mind I manage to find my way back into my apartment. Music pumping through my body. I am curled up on the floor. The tears have stopped for now. I know better than to believe that they have gone for good. That they have dried up which never happens to me.

I'm so tired. I'm so tired of the emotions. Tired of life. I feel older than my years. I've experienced three lifetimes worth of events, but I am trapped in this body that is unwilling to die. Not aging quickly enough for my liking; not bringing the end fast enough for me. Holding me back from the relief that comes with age. Death.

Slowly I have been dying little by little. My soul fades, and my heart ices over even more as time goes by.

How then do I have so many emotions if my heart is freezing? I think it is because the ice has not yet reached the interior. It has killed the exterior because I am heartless to everyone else. I show no emotion and no sympathy for other people's emotions anymore. People have made it clear that I am a heartless bitch.

There is no hope for change. There is no hope period. Does hope exist? Once I had an inkling of hope. It vanished in a heartbeat, and I haven't seen it since. Maybe it exists for others; for those who haven't seen, felt, or heard what I have.

People who are not damaged beyond repair.

There was a time where I would have fought. Fought for myself and fought for every victim. Not anymore. I cannot even summon the energy to fight for myself.

I've learned to keep to myself. If I don't allow anyone in I can't get hurt. If I'm quiet people will leave me alone. My actions leave me lonely, but at least I am safe from further anguish. My defenses are automatically up now. They are almost permanent.

Shaking I pick myself up off the floor. I begin to wander around my apartment aimlessly. The emptiness begins to scream louder; making itself known. I can feel the tears again. My parents always said that I was weak. It turns out they were right.

Stumbling to the kitchen I retrieve the remaining beer from my fridge. How ironic, turning to the exact method my parents did. They are the last people on this earth I want to act like. I don't do the drugs though. My mom would smoke, snort, ingest, and inject anything she could get her hands on.

I had broken bones which caused trips to the hospital. My mom's favorite. She would take my pain killers which meant I didn't see a single one. She tried to get as many hospital trips as she could without looking suspicious.

I don't go to hospitals. I avoid the temptation of more numbness. I wouldn't hesitate to take the pills if I had them.

I make my way to my bed and collapse on it. I open the first beer and take a swig. The bitter taste is a small price to pay for all it will bring me. Turning my head I stare at the picture frame on my nightstand. It contains a picture of the whole team. We are all smiling and laughing. That was at one of the Willows' annual Christmas parties a few years back. In the corner of the frame is another picture.

One of Catherine Willows.

I have never had to worry about her seeing it. She would never come over here. She is too good to hang out with someone like me but when I look at the picture all I feel is anger.

Our fights in the lab are legendary. The goal for both of us it seems is to get in the last word. Deliver the final blow. To bring as much pain to the other as possible. We have gotten along for small periods of time. We are an amazing team when paired, but we constantly bicker. Time and time again we have come dangerously close to starting World War Three.

Last shift was one of those days. It was different though. There is always something mixed with the anger I see in those crystal blue pools, but not today. Today all her eyes held was unadulterated anger. A fury like no other I have seen.

People assume I hate her. I don't. I can clearly remember the day I realized that Catherine was different. It was the first time I saw her in the lab with her daughter. She was so loving towards Lindsay. The exact opposite of the cold, bitchy exterior she uses around me.

She is defiantly different to anyone else. She is the only one who can infuriate me the way she does. She gets under my skin without having to use more than two words. Yet I cannot bring myself to hate the woman, stupid I know.

We are exact opposites. She is everything I'm not. If I got to know her maybe we wouldn't be such polar opposites, but there is no chance of that happening. She has made that clear. I will never get the chance to know the enigma that is Catherine Willows. Not after tonight.

I can't help the hollow laugh that escapes me. "Catherine wouldn't care if I died. I'd be doing her a favor," I whisper to nobody.

I will be doing her a favor.

The ache of my body increases with an emotion like one I've never felt. Catherine gets to me. I can't control my responses to her.

I look down at the four discarded beer bottles. I don't remember drinking three of them. But it doesn't matter because the more the better.

My life so far has been full of chances and choices and I have fucked them all up. I am no happier in Vegas than I was back in San Francisco.

After a while all of the faces become the same. The emotions are on repeat. The death never stops. The crime never stops. How people do what they do I can never figure out. I have been fighting off the ghosts in forms of different victims. Seeking a justice that can never be found; an insatiable desire that can never be filled.

Even when all of this is true, every victim is different. I can see every face. I seek justice for each and every one and almost always obtain it.

The only thing that remains is my insatiable desire that can never be fulfilled.

I draw up the images of my family at the lab. Trying to ward away the blackness, but my attempts are useless. The darkness always wins.

There is a monster that lives inside of me and I can feel it crawling beneath my skin. Born from the most morbid feelings I have. It tortures me. Reopens my wounds and reminds me of all of the horrors that I have seen.

Tears again blur my vision. Standing I know what I have to do. I am determined. I've tried before but failed. This time though is different.

Making my way to the kitchen I open the drawer. I examine each knife closely. I finally choose one. One that I have used before to leave marks on myself. Sharp and precise; it will do.

I go back to my bedroom and sit on the bed. This is it. All of my pain will be gone. I will have finally escaped the blackness that follows me. I take another swig of my beer, and stare at my reflection in the blade.

I look tired. I'm not myself anymore. I have bags under my bloodshot eyes and I'm too pale. I resemble my mother before she killed my father. This is the last resort.

Taking a deep breath I know how this works. I have scars from my previous attempts. I can hide them well and I have no hesitation.

Bringing the cold steel down to sting my flesh I pierce the skin. I cut deeply into one wrist and then move to the other.

Setting the knife down beside me I watch as the foul poison leaves my wrists. My red, tainted blood begins to stain the blankets. I've wanted this for so long. I close my eyes and wait and with only one thought in my mind.

The end is finally here.

* * *

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer -**Characters belong to CBS. If either of us owned them Jorja fox would be back on the show and Sara would definitely not be in a relationship with Grissom.

Okay...so its my turn (Maggsie). When we agreed to do this I had never written a dark story before so this is my first go so be nice!

Hope you enjoy the second chapter as much as I enjoyed the first...

* * *

**Catherine's POV**

Why do I let myself feel this way? I only ever feel this way with Lindsay. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach running through the course of my veins; the feeling of guilt; the knowing that I had hurt another human being intentionally. I always like to keep that emotion as far away as possible because if people start to believe I'm feeling guilty they take advantage. Take advantage of the fact that I can feel like everyone else. Use it to get under my skin and hurt me when they're under it.

But I know there is something I should do.

Taking a seat at my desk, I look through the mass amounts of paperwork I have. I don't have the energy for it tonight as I've been drained of it. I stare out at the lab out of my window, watching the world go by, oblivious to my feelings.

A single tear drop rolls down my cheek. In the end it all comes down to two things; what can I do to make it right? And am I willing to try and make it right?

Flashbacks come back to me at full force; making me remember the words I have thrown; The words that could cut into any soul. I never praise on a good piece of work, all I have are the put downs. Now thinking back none of the harsh words were deserved; though I thought they were deserved at the time.

Why do I keep doing it though? For one, I sometimes like inflicting the pain; now all I feel is guilt and anguish. Putting my head in my hands I let the tears fall freely.

I know she hates me and I deserve that. She thinks I hate her but I don't. When Sara Sidle first started here I'll admit I was pissed off; angry that Grissom had brought in an outsider, angry that Sara was investigating Warrick. But I let the anger fester; I couldn't let it go.

She dropped everything as soon as Grissom called her. Well now they're in a relationship it doesn't surprise me. Two unsociable people gravitated towards each other. She could do better but why do I make her feel like she can't?

The emotion bubbling through me is telling me I'm jealous. Maybe I am, she's young, gorgeous, very intelligent and gels well with the rest of the nightshift. But why am I jealous? I look good for my age, I'm pretty smart and I get on with everyone so I shouldn't be jealous.

Our fights are legendary in the lab. When we work together we work well; we push each other to get the results. Tonight was different; tonight was all about who could inflict the most pain; who could get the last word. Tonight it got personal.

_Flashback_

'_Sara can you cover for me for ten minutes?' I asked as I started to walk out of the evidence we were in. Sara and I were working on a 419 together which was very rare as Grissom hardly paired us together anymore. _

'_Need to phone the new boyfriend?' She sneered and my head immediately snapped back. I could feel the anger already rising in me, ready to blow. My hands were clenched at my sides. How dare she?_

'_How dare you!'_

'_Oops did I hit a nerve there?' She chuckled, she actually chuckled. I wanted to phone Lindsay but I wasn't going to tell her that. _

'_You have no right to criticise what I'm doing. What I do in my personal time is my business? And that said, at least I have a personal life.'_

'_What the hell is that supposed to mean?' She had now stood up from the table and had taken a step towards me. _

'_What are you stupid?' I noticed her flinch at those words. 'It means you spend all your time in here; and there was me thinking you wouldn't have to do as much sleeping with the boss and all.' This time it was me who took a step towards her. _

'_I am not sleeping with Grissom!' She spoke through clenched teeth,' and you would know that if you weren't so busy jumping on any guy you meet. What is it Catherine, does it make you feel worth something sleeping with men half your age.' If I looked down at my knuckles now they would be white. God, how could someone get under my skin so quickly?_

'_I do not sleep with guys half my age. I have dignity; unlike you who is sleeping with Grissom to get a promotion! What Sara, can't you stand me being your boss so you sleep with Grissom to make sure you get there first? If you want it that much you can have it.'_

'_How many times do I have to say it? I am not sleeping with Grissom! That's probably how you got your job. Did you notice his badge when you were dancing so you thought you'd give it a go?' We are now standing toe to toe and I am about ready to explode._

'_How dare you! I worked hard for my job!'_

'_Yeah right,' she scoffed, 'anyway how is little Lindsay nowadays? It must be hard on her knowing her Mother is a cheap whore.' Before I could stop myself, my hand had risen and Sara was holding her hand on the side of her face. I looked down at my hand and realised that I had slapped her. I had slapped Sara Sidle. Before I could say anything, I saw tears in her eyes and she pushed past me out the door. _

That was one of the worst fights we had ever had. We had never been physical before but something inside me exploded. It always does when someone mentions Lindsay. Why couldn't I of just walked away when she asked the first question? None of this would have happened, I wouldn't be feeling guilty.

Her face when I slapped her is clear in my mind. Her eyes were wide; shocked at what I had done. I never expected to see tears, not once had I ever seen the indestructible Sara Sidle cry and that's what is worrying me. She hasn't been herself lately, she doesn't flirt with Greg or Nick anymore, and she's at the lab even longer than she has been before. Why didn't I see it before?

Oh yeah, because I have been sleeping with random guys. It makes me feel wanted, makes me feel beautiful. It's a huge ego boost knowing you can have sex with a thirty something man. If I found the right guy I would settle down but Eddie destroyed too much of me to look too hard for it. If it comes, it comes. I'm not going to let myself be cheated on again.

There have been women on the way too. A woman's body is more beautiful than a man's, but none of them lasted either.

The guilt that had risen in me how now has changed to worry. I have never seen that look that was on her face when she walked out. It was a determined face. But what was she determined about? She'd finished her case.

Shoving the paperwork to the side I run a hand through my hair, wiping the tears away that have fallen. I need to make it right between us. I jump up and walked out my office signalling to Grissom on the way through that I am leaving. All I get is a nod back. Squinting as the harsh sunlight hit my eyes; I walk over to my car, and peel out of the car park. Not even knowing where she lives, I pull to the side of the road and ring Grissom to ask for directions.

I need to let her know I am sorry. Not sorry for what I said exactly as she had thrown some harsh words back but sorry for slapping her. I had never raised my hand to anyone before, but she just brought it out of me. What is it about her that made me react that way? What made her be that way with me?

When I reach her place, I jump out of the car and run to her door. I pounded on it, I am panicking. There is no answer so I pounded again. I double check that her car is there and it is; she is definitely in. I try peering through a window but I can't see anything.

I try the door again and to my surprise it opens. I slowly walk in not wanting to startle her just walking in. Beer bottles are scattered on the floor, pizza boxes and takeaway boxes are with them. I gasp as I take in the sight; part of me wants to be angry, for coming to work when she's obviously been drinking. Another part is panicking as I can't locate her in the family room or the kitchen.

I follow the hallway as I call out her name. Though I get no response. There are two doors ahead of me, the first one is a bathroom; the other must be her bedroom. I pause for a minute, contemplating what I'm going to say.

I slowly open the door and gasp at the sight. Sara is lying on her bed, blood oozing out of her wrists, the knife at her side. I rush over to her to check if there is a pulse. I have never been so relieved to find anything in all my life. Finding a faint pulse I pull out my cell and phone for an ambulance.

Her skin is so pale; she doesn't look like the vibrant person I know. After hearing the ambulance will be here in a few minutes I brush some hair from her face. She looks frail, and very weak. If I had known I would never of behaved the way I have towards her. Again guilt comes to the surface. I can't help but think this is all my fault. I made her do this; I made her think she wasn't worthy of living in this world.

The tears are streaming down my face as I take her cold hand in mine. I should have taken the time to get to know her like I have for the rest of the nightshift.

If she survives….I'm going to try and get to know Sara Sidle…..if she lives.

* * *

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

_Hmmm... my turn. The last chapter was amazing. Let's see if I can keep it up._

_Enjoy the update_

* * *

**Sara's POV**

Groggily I open my eyes. I am met by a blinding whiteness. Snapping my eyes shut I slowly try again. Glancing around I realize I am lying in a hospital bed, "Fuck! Not again," I whisper bitterly. I was not supposed to wake up. This was supposed to be over. My life was supposed to be over. Disappointment floods me. I needed life to be over.

Anger quickly follows. This is my third attempt and each time I wake up in a fucking hospital! How the hell did I end up here this time? Anger hot and blinding is flowing freely through me. "Ah Ms. Sidle," A quiet voice says making me jump. Turning my head a cheerful looking woman hustles into the room. "You gave everyone a right scare with your little act there." I ignore her words. I know she is trying to make me feel guilty about what I've done. I don't feel guilty though. Only fury, confusion, and disappointment live within me.

"How the fuck did I end up here!?" I snap. Not bothering to keep my voice down.

"I think you know very well why you are here Ms. Sidle." I examine her as she checks my IV.

"Fine let me rephrase my question then. WHO IS THE FUCKING ASSHOLE WHO SAVED ME!?" I swear to god when I get my hands on whomever it is I am going to…

"I did," replies a tired, quiet voice. Propping myself up so I can see around the nurse I catch a glimpse of a figure in the doorway. Well I'll be damned. That was the last person I expected to see…

Catherine Willows.

The nurse leaves the room and Catherine begins to come closer. Her cheeks are tear stained and vibrant blue eyes bloodshot. As she gets closer I can tell she is slightly shaking. She is in the same clothes she had on at the lab yesterday. A black button up shirt and black jeans.

The momentary shock at her appearance has subsided and I can feel the anger coming back at full force. "What the fuck Catherine! God damn it I was doing you a favor! I'm better use to you dead aren't I? So why in hell's name didn't you just let me die!?"

I watch her opening and closing her mouth as she stares at me. A fresh wave of tears is streaming down her face. "I went to your house to apologize…" Her eyes become distant and I can tell she is reliving every moment up until now. I should feel guilty. I should want to comfort her. I should want to fix things.

I feel nothing.

I roll over so that I am facing the wall with my back to her. Staring straight ahead I say quietly, "I wanted to die."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

In the darkness I stare up at the ceiling. The emptiness inside me is overwhelming.

Turning my head I watch the slumbering form beside me. I ignored Catherine. I made it perfectly clear that I didn't want her here. After all that she did you think I could get a break from her. She was the last person I ever expected to hit me. She was the last person I expected to keep me from ending it all. I can't stand looking at her.

Yet I am drawn in my hollow state to her. At some point I dozed back off. When I woke up Catherine had pulled a chair over to the side of my bed, curled up, and fallen asleep in it.

I don't understand why she is still here. Why she even stayed after she was certain I was alive and in the hospital. She has made so many things perfectly clear to me. I know that I was doing her a favor even if she won't admit it.

Maybe she couldn't live with allowing me to die on her conscience.

Her eyes flutter open reveling stormy blue pools. For a moment we stare at each other. A dormant emotion begins to stir deep within me. Something unrecognizable. Something I only feel around the woman sitting in front of me.

I turn back over to face the wall. I want to savor the numbness before my demons return along with a whirlwind of emotions. Before I am forced to remember every second of every day why I tried to kill myself. Why I have always wanted to kill myself.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I groan as a voice I do not recognize interrupts my dreams. Opening my eyes I blink a few times attempting to make my vision less blurry. Looking in the direction of the voice I find a red headed man watching me. "What?" I ask with a horse voice.

"I need to check your stitches Ma'am." I send him a death glare, but he pretends not to see it. Glancing around the room while I wait for him to be done I notice that Catherine is no longer here. "Took her long enough," I mumble to myself.

"Excuse me? I didn't catch that." I read the guys name tag 'Colin.'

"Nothing." Suddenly it hits me like a punch to the stomach.

It's back.

Crawling beneath my skin. Searching for a point of weakness. Ready to consume me. Waiting for the perfect opportunity when I am fragile. Emotions make me weak, but how long can I keep up the emptiness?

"Well Miss your stitches are fine. I will be back to check up on you later." As he leaves I hear a door open on the opposite side of the room than Colin is leaving. Changing the direction of my focus I let out a frustrated grunt.

Exiting the bathroom is a showered and changed Catherine. She locks eyes with me and I try my hardest to turn away, but something in the depths of those eyes keeps me captivated. Fear. Never have I seen Catherine show her fear. I thought that besides for anger she was unshakeable. Untouchable. But I know I am not mistaken; panic is rapidly filling the darkest depths of those pools.

As she sits back in her chair anger rises within me. What the fuck does she think she is doing!?

I realize I have let my guard down but it is too late. Images of Catherine's fury soar in front of my eyes. I can feel the sting of her hand colliding with my face. I can feel bile rising in my throat. The look of hatred in her eyes. A burning sensation. Her expression when she snapped.

I lean over the side of the bed and empty the contents of my stomach. I can feel Catherine holding my hair and rubbing my back. I try to block it out. I can't have her touching me. Not now. Even after I have finished the images start flashing faster and faster in front of me. Tears are threatening to fall.

Taking deep breaths I attempt to calm myself. I try to block out Catherine's touches. I quickly turn back onto my back so that I can stare at the ceiling. I cannot bring myself to even spare Catherine a glance.

Her hand caresses my forehead as she moves strands of hair from my face. Instead of soothing me her touch stings and tears at me. "Don't touch me," I say with venom that is backed by a level of anger I have never experienced before.

When I force my eyes to connect with hers she takes a few steps back. I want to hurt the woman standing in front of me. Hurt her as much as she has hurt me. I want her to feel the pain. Understand the torture I have to live with everyday. I want her to experience the inexplicable agony that I feel. That she has contributed to. I want her to understand that she made a mistake.

I want her to understand why she should have left me to die.

"I'm going to go find someone to clean up. I'll be back."

"Don't bother," I mumble as she starts to leave the room. She freezes for a moment but then continues on as if she didn't hear me.

For a brief second I consider ripping my stitches while she is gone, but it is a waste of effort. Catherine will just come back and play hero again.

Catherine re-enters the room looking nervous. She sits back down. I wait for the man that followed her in to finish and leave the room. The smell of death and bleach is even stronger when he is done. I hate hospitals.

"Why are you still here Catherine? Don't you have better things to be doing like fucking men?" I need a release. I want a fight. I want to hurt her. I need to hurt her.

Her jaw flexes in anger, but for once she does not take the bait. I am shocked. She takes advantage of my unbalanced emotions and looks me straight in the eyes. "I'm not leaving you."

I let a harsh, hollow laugh escape from me. Now she cares. Now she won't leave. It takes me almost dying for her to finally start caring. This causes me to laugh even harder.

I can sense Catherine's eyes on me. She is probably trying to judge my sanity. Look at where I am; did she really think I had much sanity left?

I return to staring at the ceiling. "They guys are stopping by later," Catherine says quietly.

"Oh how fan-fucking-tastic." The bitterness in my voice is overpowering.

The scent of cheep alcohol, stale cigarettes, and BO catches me off guard. It is enveloping me. My breathing becomes rapid and shallow. There is a weight pressing down on my chest. Sitting up I curl my legs into myself and bury my face in my knees trying to calm down. Trying to fight off the lingering smells of my past.

"Sara?" Catherine asks cautiously."What's wrong?" It feels as if someone has pressed a cloth over my mouth as the pressure in my chest increases. "Hey Sar calm down. It's okay." I can feel Catherine beside me. Hesitating to touch me. "Breathe sweetheart. Breathe." As I listen to her voice it distracts me from what is happening. I can feel my breathing evening out. "It's going to be okay Sar."

My head snaps up. "NO IT'S NOT GOING TO BE OKAY CATHERINE! You have no clue what you have done. I should have died. You should have let me die!"

I turn to face the wall once again. I don't have to turn around I can hear her shallow breathing. I can picture the tears rolling down her porcelain skin.

Why do I have to be this way? Why do I have to be so horrible to Catherine? She didn't know my needs when she stopped me from leaving the pain behind. The glistening of the knife returns to me. The sight of it sinking deep into my father's chest. Now I remember. I remember why I want to cause her pain. Why I verbally lash out since I could never physically hurt her.

I could never bring myself to physically hurt another unless I my life was threatened.

I hear many voices coming closer. I turn on my back so that I can observe the people without talking to them. I can place the voices to faces immediately. Warrick enters the room first followed by Greg, Nick, Gil, David, Brass, and Doc. Robbins. Instantly they become quiet. I examine them as they look at each other unsure of what to do or say, and then they return their attention to me. All of their eyes are burning holes in my skin. I can see Catherine making an effort to pull herself together.

I move my eyes to the ceiling, but soon their presence becomes too overwhelming for me. I turn my back to them and hope they will leave soon. I hear footsteps crossing the room followed by Warrick's hushed words to Catherine, "Do you want to go home for a while?" I can't hear Catherine's reply, but I know she is too stubborn to go anywhere. "Are you going to be okay girl?" Again I do not hear Catherine's words. Perhaps there are none. "Okay."

I am relieved they gave up their endeavor to visit me. Now all I have to do is put up with Catherine. The room rings with their voices as they say goodbye to Catherine and I.

If only I could get Catherine to leave too.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I haven't turned around since the team was here. Darkness has fallen upon the room. I can feel Catherine's presence behind me although I am unsure if she is sleeping or not. She hasn't bothered with the lights. I have lost all sense of time beyond whether it is day or night.

Hands roaming my body. Rough lips on mine. Foreign scents lingering around me. Warm blood soaking me. Fire running through my veins. Cold steel biting at my skin.

Tears start to fall. I allow them to shake my whole body silently.

Being pushed down the stairs. Through a glass door. Their words ring in my ears. Catherine's voice slicing me like a knife. Her hand against my face. Determination. Screams. Victims. Young rape victims. Hate crimes. Senseless actions.

Catherine's chair creeks. A weight is on the bed behind me. She is rubbing circles on my back. I cover my face not wanting Catherine to see my tears. My weakness. It is a little late for that, but I still must hide it as much as I can.

Catherine leaves the bed. I can hear footsteps. There is a hand on mine trying to pull it away from my face. I give in and she removes both of my hands. "You don't have to do this alone Sara," she whispers. I can hear the concern in Catherine's tone. The fear in her tone, but no traces of pity. She holds my hands tightly. I can sense her watching me. Getting a good view of my weakness.

I'm sure she believes I am fragile. That I am pathetic. I try to raise my hands back to my face, but she refuses to let go. She refuses to let me hide. "I'm here Sara. I'm here," she reassures me quietly. Her words do little to calm me.

They have the reverse effect. They cause me to cry harder. I didn't want to drag anyone else into my battle. Least of all Catherine. She has so many other things to do. She has a daughter to worry about. She tightens her grip on my hands to reinforce her presence.

Finally the tears subside. Catherine is still holding my hands. Opening my eyes I stare directly into her clear blue ones. She has crouched beside the bed so that we are eye level. She sends me a small smile. I don't return it. Emotions swirling in my mind. Catherine squeezes my hands and then gets back up to return to the chair.

For the first time I feel guilty. I turn and observe her curled up in that wooden chair. It has to be uncomfortable. Despite my feelings toward her at the moment, she is the first person to ever stay with me. The first person to care enough to stay. She is also showing no signs of going anywhere despite my protests.

"You should sleep." I am surprised with myself. The first civil words I have spoken to her so far. I watch her close her eyes. "Not in the chair Catherine." She opens her eyes and stares at me puzzled. "I'm not going to bother to try and get you to leave, because I know you won't, but you have been in that chair for two days." I move over to one side of the bed.

Surprise is clearly playing across her face. Ripping her eyes from the spot on the bed she gazes at me again trying to figure out if she is interpreting my meaning correctly. "Are you sure?" She sounds uncertain.

"Yes." She stands up and sits on the bed beside me. "Lay down. You need to sleep." I cannot comprehend why I am suddenly concerned about her well being. I roll my eyes at her as she lies down on top of the covers. I pull the blankets from beneath her and cover her with them. "Sleep," I tell Catherine before turning around, and listening to the sound of her breathing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sitting on the bed I stare around the room. Light blue walls meant to calm patients, a desk, a barred window, a bed, and a dresser. That's all there is for me to look at. No possible way for anyone to hurt themselves. This isn't the first time I've been in one of these programs. I know how it works. Depending on how fast I make progress I should be out of here in about a month.

I have just had my first group therapy. A whole week closely monitored.

A whole week I have been caged in.

I wouldn't be here if the hospital hadn't forced me to be. If I do not complete what is required here they will refuse to release me.

My stomach growls. I know there are a few more hours until dinner. Until I am a level two I cannot be allowed out of my room on my own.

The door opens and Cheryl the nurse walks in. "Ms. Sidle you have a phone call." I was approved for phone calls on the second day.

I glance at the stack of slips on the dresser. My unread messages. All from one person. "Who is it?"

"Catherine Willows."

I let out a sigh. "I don't want to talk to her."

* * *

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer - **Characters belong to CBS. If either of us owned them Jorja fox would be back on the show and Sara would definitely not be in a relationship with Grissom.

The both of us would like to thank everyone for the reviews….

I am very sorry for the long delay...real life gets in the way sometimes.

Hope you enjoy the fourth chapter as much as I enjoyed the third...

* * *

I look out at the sun-drenched street outside my house, hugging myself. I should be feeling warm but all I feel is coldness running through me, knowing that Sara has declined yet another one of my phone calls. I know I haven't been the nicest person to her but can't she see that I just want to help?

I have no idea what is going in her head. One minute she is caring about me in the hospital, concerned about my well-being. The next she is ignoring every single one of my phone calls. I wish I had some way of getting her to let down some of her walls that she's hiding behind.

It scares me to know that she wanted to die; and that it was my fault that she did. I had no idea that she was suicidal. If I had known I would have done everything in my power to make her feel….not happy but comfortable around me. Instead of fighting against her and her against me.

I want to make it up to her, take the time to get to know her. The boys all get on well with her, they make her smile and laugh, which is the only time I've ever seen her do both. When it's just me, I get the furrowed brows and on the verge of tears look. I have to be honest and say that I should have made the time for her. She did for me. When I've been down she's made sure I was okay. When's she's been unhappy I've started an argument.

I mean what sort of person am I? I know I'm starting to see myself in a new light. I know I treat Sara differently than everyone else and I have no idea why. I've helped Nick and Warrick out of sticky situations, for one Nick when he was suspected of murder. Now I would help Sara in a heartbeat but before her attempted suicide I doubt I would of.

I glance back at the phone, should I ring again? Is there really any point? There is, I want her to know that I'm trying, that I want to help her through this. Stepping back, I pick up the phone and dial the now remembered number.

I finally get through to someone, and I'm told the same thing that I have for the last week. She doesn't want to speak to anyone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Sara is lying down on the bed, blood oozing out of her wrists. I run over and check her pulse but there isn't one. I try and phone for an ambulance but my fingers won't dial the number and when they do no words come out of my mouth._

_I try and stop the bleeding from her wrists but it just oozes through my fingers, more and more each time. _

"_NO, SARA STAY WITH ME!"_

I sit up and look around the darkened room. It's the same dream I've been having for the past few nights, and I can never save her. I never get there in time. My breathing is ragged and I manage to get it back under control.

I can feel sweat dripping down my back, blankets are all twisted down at my feet. I have to tell myself that she is safe and she's being looked after. But my subconscious won't let me. I know in a couple of days I can go and see her at the program she's on. I know she's okay but I just need to see it for myself. I need to see that she's making progress in getting better.

I lie back down; a couple of days just seem too long to wait.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I groan as an incessant sound rips through my ears. As I wake up a bit more I figure out that it's the phone that's ringing. Reaching to my left I grab the offending item just to stop the annoying tone.

"Willows."

My voice is thick with sleep; I hope it's not Grissom asking me to go in to work. I can't face work right now; I don't want to make a mistake. It could be the key to getting the right person or letting the right person go free.

After a few seconds of waiting all I can hear is heavy breathing on the other end of the phone.

"Hello?"

I can feel myself getting irritated, where I just want to snap at someone but a quiet voice calms me down.

"Um hi...it's Sara."

My heart feels like its pumping out of my chest, overwhelmed that she's finally called. I want to scream and cry all at the same time. I want to shout at her for not calling back sooner when I've been so worried about her, but I also want to cry because all the worry has left my body. Her voice is so quiet and timid, nothing like I'm used too. Gone is the strong willed Sara Sidle and in place is a vulnerable women who desperately needs help but doesn't want it.

"Hey, how are you?"

I know it's a stupid question to ask but I need to know that she is okay, well I know she is okay but I just need to hear her say it.

"Um...as well as can be expected in this hellhole. I just phoned up to...um,...to tell you to stop calling. I need to do this without you calling."

I choke back the tears that are threatening to call. Why won't she accept that I want to be there for her? What is it in her mind that won't let her accept help? What's holding her back?

"Sara, wha-"

I'm cut off by the dial tone beeping in my ear. She's hung up on me. As I put the phone back the tears start streaming down my face. I know deep in her heart she wants the help, and I'm going to make damn sure that she gets it. I'm not giving up on her. I'm not giving up on Sara Sidle. I've done it one too many times already now I just have to make her see it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As I walk through the door, I'm met by bare pale blue walls. I find myself shivering and wrapping my arms round myself, trying to warm myself up. It isn't homely and it doesn't look comfortable. If I was stuck in here I think I would do everything in my power to get out as quick as possible. The program that Sara's in has finally allowed her to have visitors.

I know she won't be happy to see me, judging by the phone call I recieved from her but I sure as hell not giving up. I will keep coming back and coming back until she allows me to see her. Until she drops down the first barrier in front of so many others. I'm led into another room and I find myself in Sara's room.

Her back is towards me, as she lays on the single small bed. I look around, it's more depressing cold pale blue, just a wooden chest of drawers warmths the room. I give a nod to the person that led me in and they leave; just leaving Sara and I. I walk toward the bed and take a seat next to it. I place a hand on her shoulder and she flinches under it and pulls away. I try not be hurt and remind myself that it's just her normal behaviour towards everyone and it's not just directed at me.

"I told you not to bother."

Sara is the first to break the silence, and the words I want to say are stuck in my throat. Does she think that she's worthless? That she's not worthy to have someone worry and care about her?

"Sara look at me."

She stays in the same position looking out of the window. So instead I walk round to the other side and kneel down in front of her. She's so dealthy pale, they grey under her eyes tells me that she hasn't been sleeping well. Her wrists are no longer bandaged and I can see the distinct marks where she cut herself and many older looking scars. She tilts her head up to avoid eye contact so I make the decision and I take her hand in mine. She tries to pull it away but I hold it tight trying to convey that I'm not going anywhere even if she wants me to.

"Sara let me help you through this."

I can hear a pleading tone in my voice as I speak, and she seems to notice it as well as she makes eye contact with me. Her normal brown sparkling eyes have been replace by dull looking ones.

"You've already done enough. I wanted to die."

She pulls her hand out of mine and turns away from me, more tears are falling down my face. I have never cried so much. I hear a sniffle coming from Sara and I know she's crying. I don't think I've ever seen her cry before. She never wants to be seen as vulnerable.

"Sara, I just want you to know that I'm going to be with you every step of the way...I'm not going to let you fight me on this...when you're out of here I want you to stay with me, because I care Sara... I never want you to think you're worthless and you should be dead because you shouldn't. I know you are going to find it tough but I want to help you through it. Life is worth living and I'm going to show you that it is, and I'm not going to take no for an answer."

All I get is silence and I know thats my cue to leave. I reach over and squeeze her shoulder and this time she doesn't flinch.

"Your life is worth living."

Knowing I won't get anything out of her now, I walk out the room and out the door to my car. I get in and rest my head on the steering wheel, I can feel myself breaking down. My body is shaking, the sobs running out of me.

I'm making a promise to myself that I will make her see the good things that life has to offer.

* * *

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer- see chapters one or four**

We'd like to thank eveyone for taking the time to read the story.

The reviews were great! Thanks.

_I don't know about you but I was floored by the last chapter it was perfect. So I hope I can keep up with your guys standards_

Hope you enjoy the update!

* * *

**Sara's POV**

Drying the last of my tears I push myself up to lean against the headboard. Dinner will be ready soon and I don't want the others to think that I am weak. Tears show that. Only weak people cry. My father taught me that. One of the only lessons he taught me that I could use. That I could believe.

Catherine has seen me cry. She probably believes that I am pathetic, allowing myself to succumb to tears. To let my feelings show. I had them under control for a while. I was unshakable. Very much like Catherine herself. Even when she cries there is something about her. No one could ever consider her weak or fragile.

Catherine. She's already done enough, but she is refusing to leave me alone. I know that I should be grateful that I have someone who is kind enough to stay by me, but I don't care anymore. I need to be alone. I want to and I need to. I…I don't want to have someone caring about me all of a sudden, and I don't want to become attached to Catherine, because I know once that happens she will leave. Without saying goodbye. Without explanation. She'll just be…gone.

I can do this on my own. I don't need anyone. I've never needed anyone. Never, and I refuse to let that change now.

Why she would even want to waste her time on me is a mystery in itself. I'm ready to die, and I've been ready to die for years. Nothing that she says or does can change that. Can't she leave me to disappear from this torture? Can't she at least leave me to myself? She believes she is helping, but when she is around everything hurts more. It hurts to know that someone cares when I don't deserve their concern. It pains me to know she pities me. It kills to know that because I attempted suicide is the only reason she cares.

Things can only get worse from here, because I survived. I survived when I no longer have the strength or the will to keep fighting.

All I wanted, all I want, is for the end to come.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I stand peering through the bars on the window. When I move up in level I can gain the privilege of going outside. So far I've managed TV time, which I don't use because no one here watches the shows I watch. I can leave my room now as long as somebody checks on me every twenty minutes.

I'm waiting. Waiting to hear the door creak open. Waiting for the sound of more than one set of footsteps. Waiting for Catherine. I've made it clear I don't want her here. I assumed I made it perfectly clear when I called her, and then with the way I treated her on her first, and I hoped, last visit.

This morning during my therapy session I was informed I would have a visitor, and by visitor that means Catherine. The guys call. I've talked to them a few times, but I prefer to be left alone. Which is a concept Catherine can't seem to grasp. Not only does it appear she will be visiting once a week when we are allowed visitors, but she calls to try and talk to me at least one a day. Usually more.

All I want is to be left alone.

The door opens to my left. Catherine's heels click as she walks in. I focus my attention outside the room as she comes closer. I catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye as she stands next to me. There are dark circles under her eyes. Her expression is graver than I remember it being. She is trying to be neutral at least, but something about her has changed. She is allowing some of her fear and worry to show. If it is her intention or not I do not know.

The door closes leaving us in a heavy silence. "How have you been doing?" Her voice is quiet.

"Fine." She turns her head in my direction and I can feel eyes roaming over me as she takes in my appearance. I watch as a bird lands in a tree. I can sense she wants to say something, but she chooses not to.

There is a light knocking on the door and then it opens. I turn to see who has entered the room. It is Sam. One of the women on the staff. She comes to check on me often. I look at her waiting her to reveal why she is here. "I'm sorry. I came to check in on you Sara; I didn't realize you had a visitor."

Catherine steps around me and walks over to Sam. She holds out her hand, "Catherine Willows." She puts on a gleaming smile. She always has been a people person.

"Sam. Nice to meet you Catherine," she replies as she takes Catherine's hand and shakes it. Sam raises an eyebrow at me. She is surprised to see Catherine here. She is usually the one who has to tell Catherine that I don't want to talk to anyone. "Sara why don't you show Catherine around. I'm sure she wouldn't mind a tour." I send Sam a death glare. I can feel Catherine's eyes on me but I refuse to look at her.

"Fine." I walk out of the room not waiting to see if she follows.

Catherine catches up with me, and I point out the rooms and tell her what they are. Most of the rooms, luckily, are being used so Sam can't suggest I show Catherine around the rooms too.

The sooner the tour is over the sooner she will leave.

I should tell Catherine I don't want help, but something is stopping me. Something I cannot comprehend.

Sam leaves us as we re-enter my room. I sit on the bed and Catherine sits next to me. I glanced at a clock in the other room. I've only killed ten minutes and she can be here for three hours if she wants to be. "I…I uh brought you a couple of books. I figured you might get bored." She takes three books out of her purse and hands them to me. To my surprise they are all exactly something I would normally read. I didn't think she paid attention to those things. She probably asked Grissom what I like to read. "If you finish them before I visit next week let me know and I will bring more."

I look directly at her for the first time since she's been here. "Thanks." She sends me a small smile. If she wants one in return she's not getting one. I set the books down next to me and turn my attention to my scar covered arms. I remember how I received each of them. Self inflicted or not.

I can feel anger dripping into my body as I look at my freshest scars. I wouldn't be here now if it weren't for Catherine. I wouldn't have to be suffering day in and day out. I wouldn't have to be reliving every single moment of my pathetic life.

I flex my jaw trying to keep myself under control. Catherine's eyes are on me, but I do not want to look at her. I'm angry at her for saving me. I'm angry at her for making me feel. I'm angry with her for being so different from everyone else, and I am furious with her for wasting her time on me.

Fire filled tears are threatening to fall. How does she do this? Why does she do this to me? I turn away from Catherine. Not again. I am not going to let her see me this weak again. "Sara?" Her voice is timid. Cautious.

"Leave," my voice is hollow. Tears are starting to burn paths down my cheeks.

"Sara what…"

"Leave." I listen to the sound of her heels meeting the floor until she reaches the door. I don't turn to look at her. She can't see me like this. The door opens and closes.

Leaving me alone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I push my plate away. I can't eat with the memories that are flashing through my mind.

Standing up I walk back to my room and lay down on the bed.

Hands on my body. I beg them to stop. Every time they violated me they took a piece of me with them. A piece of me and a piece of my innocence. I shake my head and try to forget.

I pick up one of the books Catherine brought me. Opening it a piece of paper falls out. I open it.

_Sara,_

_I know that you are sick of me, but I want you to know I'm not leaving you alone because I care about you, and because I believe that there are things in your life that are worth living for. I won't go away Sara, no matter how much you hate me for it. I'm not letting you do this on your own. Remember that. –Cath_

I roll my eyes. She doesn't give up. Carefully I refold the note and set it on the night stand that was brought into my room a few days ago. Apparently it was a present from a friend. To make my room more comfortable. I didn't ask questions.

Opening the book I begin to lose myself in the pages.

I yawn and mark my place in _Book Of The Dead_. I don't usually read crime books, but I enjoy the ones where authors get the details correct. This only confirms my suspicions that Catherine asked what I liked to read. I highly doubt she was paying attention to what I was reading the day I brought a different book by Patricia Cornwell to work. Maybe she was, but we had just had a fight so I doubt it.

It is a kind gesture though. I can't ignore that fact.

Turning off the light I shut my eyes and wait to fall asleep.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_I walk into the room. Looking around I realize it is the room where I watched my parents fight constantly. Moving past the window I catch a glimpse of my reflection. What I see horrifies me. Staring back at me is my mother. Or is it me? _

_I can't tell anymore._

_Standing in front of the other window looking into the darkness is another woman. Her back is to me, but I know who it is. Catherine. Turning fury is written all over her face at the sight of me. She advances on me. I continue to back up. She is screaming at me, but I cannot hear what she is saying. Her hands are gesturing wildly. I did something wrong. She hates me. She is getting closer and closer. I'm starting to panic. I am pressed against the wall, and she standing directly in front of me._

_I realize for the first time there is something in my hand. Her hand collides with my face, and the familiar sting bites at my cheek. Suddenly I know what to do. I move my hand quickly and steel sinks into her flesh. Pulling the knife out of her she stubbles backward and I follow her._

_I sink the knife into her again. When I remove it she is lying on her back on the ground trying to stop the blood from gushing out of her. I straddle her and repeatedly stab her until her eyes are empty and glazed over. A horrible insane laughter fills the room…_

My eyes shoot open and I bolt up in bed. Cold sweat is trickling down the back of my neck. I am shaking violently. The door flies open and Sam rushes in. I bend over the side of my bed and let the bile flow from me. Tears are starting to mix with the sweat.

My breath is ragged as I sit back up. "I need to make a phone call." Sam stares at me for a moment trying to determine something.

"Okay. Follow me." I get out of bed. My legs are tired, with every movement I can feel my muscles straining. Sam leads me into an empty room with a table in the center and a few chairs. I follow her instructions and take a seat. She leaves promising to be right back.

I am struggling to control my emotions. I feel as if I've been plunged into ice water.

Sam walks back into the room with a cordless phone. She hands it to me and then walks out of the room closing the door behind her.

I dial the familiar number. I have sat contemplating calling it many times over the past two and a half weeks. A tired, irritated voice comes onto the line, "Willows."

Breathing heavily I don't say anything. I hang up. Her voice still clear in my mind I let the tears fall. I bury my hands in my face and sob. Fear and relief overwhelming me.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sitting I listen to the others tell their stories. Finding parts of myself in each one of their pasts. Luckily we are not required to talk about our past. Only why we are here and what we are learning. I have already spoken keeping things brief and making my words as progressive as possible. I want out of here.

No matter what Catherine says I'm not staying with her. Especially not after last night. My dream only confirmed what I already knew. I will hurt her.

I try to block out the images that are forming in my mind. Of my dream. Of my past. I realized what happened in my dream was exactly what happened between my mother and my father.

The only thing that makes me more sick than my actions in the dream is that I knew why she did it. I understood how she felt. I could sympathize with my mother.

People are starting to stand up and leave. "Sara."

I turn and walk over to Betty. She is the one in charge of group sessions. "Yeah?" I try to avoid her eyes. I know that when people look into my eyes they can see me. Especially when the blackness, my past, and my emotions leave me so weak. I have no control.

"I wanted you to know that the rest of the staff has agreed with me and we are moving you up to level three. I'm sure you are aware that this means you have access to the grounds and you can be unsupervised outside of your room. I'm certain you are also well aware that after this level you will be allowed to leave. Good job." She puts a hand on my shoulder and I try not to flinch.

"Thanks." Two more weeks tops. Finally. I leave the room. Instead of returning to my room I head toward the grounds. Opening the door I choose a bench to sit on.

I am relieved that no one approaches me to talk.

I try to battle off the thoughts in my mind but I am losing. The images are becoming clearer and clearer. I can't allow anyone to see me like this. I rush back into my room and close the door. I will go outside later.

Laying on my bed I close my eyes. I barely slept last night. I only hope I have no more nightmares.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sitting outside I watch the setting sun. The air cool and the breeze gentle against my face. Chilling the drenched parts of my shirt from my soaked hair. I took a shower after Sam woke me up.

I can hear the sounds of Vegas in the distance. I am however listening for a different noise. Voices. I am waiting. Sam told me Catherine called this morning panicking because she could hear my crying on the other end of the line last night. I should have know Catherine would call the number back. I needed to hear her voice. My dreamed seemed so real.

I try to focus on the relaxing calmness around me. I need it. Catherine's coming to visit.

* * *

TBC...


End file.
